


The Love Song of Arthur Pendragon

by MaliciousSherlock5



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 03:06:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaliciousSherlock5/pseuds/MaliciousSherlock5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin Emrys doesn't like poetry, he doesn't like people telling him what to do, and he definitely does not like Arthur Pendragon, his "Analysis of Poetry" professor. He's a posh git who needs to get off of his high horse, and he is most definitely not gorgeous, intelligent, and funny. And the last thing Merlin is going to let himself do is love him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Merlin Emrys was a predictable young man. Every day, he woke up at 11, took a shower, brushed his teeth, then got dressed for the day. He went to his classes, then went to the same pub with the same three people at the same time every night. He made it home by midnight, watched an hour of telly, and was asleep by 2. His life was the definition of routine. He enjoyed it. He liked knowing what his day would entail, no matter what.

Merlin Emrys was a predictable young man, and he liked it that way.

–

"It's not really that he's a bad teacher, he's brilliant really, but he's just..."

"A complete arsehole."

Merlin winced, taking another long sip of his pint. Gwen, Lance, and Gwaine looked on in some strange brand of amusement and concern.

"Is it really that bad?" Merlin asked, lines of worry covering his forehead.

"Complete arsehole," Gwaine shot back, "Nothing more to it."

"He's over-exaggerating. He's a great professor, really knows his shit, but he is a bit insensitive." Lance was always looking to help, make everyone feel better. Even if whatever he was saying wasn't true.

"Try to take it seriously, and he won't give you any grief," Gwen added helpfully.

"Great. Bloody excellent. Only I would get saddled with Arthur fucking Pendragon, campus-wide prat of a professor, for bloody 'Analysis of Poetry' when I'm a geometry and music major. Only I." Merlin groaned. It was easy for him to feel self-pity, since he knew that if Lance had something even a touch negative to say about the man, then he must be god-awful.

"At least he's young. And gorgeous," Gwen said helpfully, patting Merlin's back in a cheap attempt to soothe him.

"Gorgeous doesn't help me understand idiotic pretentious poetry, Gwen."

Gwen just sighed, drumming her fingers on the table. Gwaine and Lance drank their pints in silence as Merlin rubbed his temples.

"I hate to be the one to say it, Merlin," Gwaine sighed, looking Merlin directly in the eyes. "But he, under no circumstances, dates students. Believe me, I've seen enough people try. Just promise us you won't get all hung up over this prick, yeah?"

Merlin was a bit taken aback. Gwaine was never this serious about anything. He nodded before taking another gulp of lager.

"See you around, mate." And with that, Gwaine was departing the pub without a look back. This Pendragon must really be awful.

"What's the deal with him and His Pratliness?" Merlin asked curiously.

"I'm not sure. He just never warmed up to him. Thinks he's too arrogant." 

Merlin quirked his brow at Lance. "Gwaine thinks he's too arrogant? Good lord, help me."

Lance took Gwen's hand and stood up. "Tell us how it goes tomorrow. Good luck." Lance gave him a hearty slap on the back. Gwen bent down to kiss his forehead, and then they were gone.

Merlin sighed. That was one good thing about having older friends, he thought. They were always able to warn him when one of his professors was a gorgeous clotpole who thought himself better than everyone else. As a first semester sophomore at Camelot University, Merlin barely knew the ropes, let alone how to deal with arrogant professors. But he knew his way to the local pub, and that would surely be of help in the next few years.

He pulled on his book bag and slapped a fiver on the table, waving to the bartender as he left.  
"I'll see you tomorrow, Merlin." 

"See you, Kilgharrah." 

–

Merlin trekked through the mush of snow and leaves, admiring the barren trees as he walked. 

He approached the familiar red door, knocking harshly.

"Merlin, what are you doing? You'll catch your death," Gaius chided, pulling Merlin into his home. Gaius was his mother's brother, and a father figure to him, for all intents and purposes. Merlin had known Gaius since he was in nappies.

Merlin took a seat in the sitting room, pulling off his boots and jacket. Gaius handed him a cup of tea before taking his place in his own great sitting chair. "Necessary for every wise old man," he'd told Merlin as a boy.

"What's troubling you, my boy?"

"Is it obvious?"

"You haven't looked this sour since you lost your neckerchief."

Merlin laughed. "Gave me a reason to buy more, didn't it?"

Gaius' eyebrow was raised, though a smile adorned his face.

"What do you know about Arthu- Professor Pendragon?" Merlin asked, sobering up again.

"He's very good at what he does. His methods may be unconventional, and not for the thin-skinned, but he's one of the best English professors we've had."

Merlin sighed.

"I assume you're starting class with him?"

"Tomorrow, one o' clock." Merlin says, his voice sing-song but oozing sarcasm.

"Pay attention, do your work properly, do not challenge him or what he says, and he will have no issue with you."

"Three things I am absolutely awful at."

Gaius smiled sympathetically. "It's only analysis of poetry, Merlin."

"I fucking hate poetry."

"Then you'd best find a way to get interested."

"According to Gwaine, I'll be very interested indeed."

Gaius nodded. "I can see where he might say that, yes."

"Why is there this preconceived notion that I fall in love with every arse I meet?"

"I think the notion is more that you'll fall in love with him, Merlin."

Merlin narrowed his eyes. "Well, if you lot think that Arthur Pendragon can just flutter his eyelashes at me, read some old fart's ode to his hag of a wife, and I'll be naked on his desk by noon, then you're very mistaken."

"By all means, please prove us wrong."

Merlin knew Gaius didn't believe a lick of what he'd said.

"Why do you think that I'll be so interested in him?"

"He is twenty-seven, available, very handsome, well-read, intelligent, charming when he'd like to be, and will manage to treat you like you're hired help while also treating you like you'd make an excellent bedmate."

Merlin scoffed. "So?"

"Don't be coy with me, boy."

Merlin took a sip of the tea he'd been handed. "Alright. I'll try to keep it in my trousers."

–

Merlin knew the moment his eyes opened that he'd fucked up big time. The light streaming through his curtains was too bright, his muscles too well rested. He grabbed at his phone, clicking the home button urgently.

1:13.

"Fuck."

He pushed his glasses onto his face, black and thick-rimmed. He didn't bother with changing jeans, the black ones he had on would have to do. He pulled on a purple t-shirt, barely able to put on deodorant and brush his teeth before retrieving his book bag and phone and sprinting out of his dorm. He shoved people out of the way, almost tripping over his own feet several times. 

He pushed his way into the lecture hall, steadying his breath. Pendragon was facing the blackboard, and Merlin thanked his lucky stars. He quietly shut the door, making his way up the steps to an empty desk, when – 

"Kind of you to grace us with your presence, Mr. Emrys," a posh, snide voice called from behind him.

Merlin wheeled around, eyes wide with surprise.

"How do you know who I am?" he blurted out. Pendragon snorted.

"You were the only person stupid enough not to be on time to my first class."

"I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again." Merlin blushed, staring at his boots. 

"Why are you even here, Mr. Emrys?"

"W-what?"

"Double major, geometry and music theory. You are aware this is analysis of poetry, yes? Or are you deaf and dumb?"

"Er, well... I..." Merlin fumbled over his words. This was worse than he'd imagined. This was public humiliation. Titters of laughter littered the room.

"Don't be shy. After all, you are the only person in the room who isn't pursuing some branch of English. We all already know why you're here."

"I wanted to get my English credits, sir." Merlin admitted softly.

"You'd better be prepared to work for it then. Merlin. Take a seat, and do not be late again."

Merlin nodded, climbing up to the last row and taking a seat at an empty desk. 

He pulled out his phone the moment Arthur turned to face the blackboard again. He opened his stream of messages with Gwaine.

I was late. M

You're fucked. G

Thank you, Sir Obvious. M

What did he say? G

Made fun of my major, called me an idiot. M

Sorry, mate. Keep your head up. Drinks on me tonight, yeah? G

Thanks. I'll see you then. M

Merlin looked up at the blackboard, where Arthur had just finished the 'y' on "Analysis of Poetry". "Professor Pendragon" was written in bold, confident letters just above it.

"For those of you that don't know, I am Professor Pendragon, and I have the joy of teaching you lot how to analyze poetry for the next semester. This course will not be easy, do not expect me to put up with half-arsed work, and do not expect me to give credit where it is not due. Understood?"

Silence.

"Lovely. That all being said, I am genuinely interested in what some of you might have to say about poetry. Please do not be afraid to share your thoughts and interpretations. You will never learn anything if all you do is stare at me while I tell you what someone else's words mean."

A few smiles appeared, and if Merlin wasn't so sure this guy was a jerk, he'd have smiled himself.

"Now, let's head straight in. We'll start with my favourite. 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock', T.S. Eliot."  
Pendragon pulled a stool to the front of his desk, taking a seat. He took a small book from his desk, and opened to a bookmarked page, clearing his throat before he began to read aloud.

"Let us go then, you and I,  
When the evening is spread out against the sky  
Like a patient etherized upon a table;  
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,  
The muttering retreats  
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels  
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:  
Streets that follow like a tedious argument  
Of insidious intent  
To lead you to an overwhelming question…  
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”  
Let us go and make our visit."

Arthur – Merlin didn't bother trying to stop himself this time – had a soothing voice, when he wasn't demeaning Merlin's intelligence. It was deep, without being booming, and soft, without being too quiet. His voice was even, not betraying his thoughts or emotions. Merlin watched him as he read, absorbing the words with care. Arthur's lips were strawberries on the golden hue of his skin, his eyes a pure and shocking shade of blue. His hair was messy without attempt to be, and a colour of blonde that people would kill over. His jaw was strong, masculine, just like the rest of his toned body. Arthur was unusual, in a black button-down shirt and jeans, rather than the suits that most professors adorned. His teeth were slightly crooked, but in a pleasant way. Even his faults were beautiful.

Merlin silently began to panic. No, that wouldn't do. No. He halted the thoughts there.

He concentrated on the poetry, losing himself there instead of in Arthur's twisted beauty.

When Arthur was done, he returned the ribbon to its place between the pages, then placed the book back on his desk.  
"The reason," he stood up, "we started with that poem is not because it is my favourite. It is because the meaning of that poem has never been set in stone. That's what this course is about: your interpretation of the writing." 

He took a piece of chalk in his fingers, and Merlin could not help but notice the way that the chalk was dwarfed in Arthur's large hands.

"Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,  
Have the strength to force this moment to its crisis?"

He wrote these words on the dead center of the board, in text larger than everything else covering its surface. It was a clear illustration of the way Arthur himself interpreted the poem.

"What do you think this poem means?" Arthur asked as he turned, looking up at the room full of students.

No one spoke for a moment.

"He's in love."

Merlin was surprised to hear his own voice.

Arthur smiled at him, and Merlin forced himself to believe it was genuine.

"Go on."

"He's in love, but he's scared. I suppose he's scared of being hurt, or maybe that it won't turn out well,” Merlin continued. “He knows he's getting older, but he also knows he still has enough of a life left to regret not speaking up. So he's caught. He wants to confess how he feels, but he is scared. He's experienced with life, but knows he has enough time left to be happy with the person he loves."

The room grew silent again.

"Basically, he's not got the bollocks to do anything about it."

Arthur laughed at the remark, his smile extending to the twinkle in his eyes. 

"Not bad for a maths major."

"And music theory."

Arthur chuckled. "How could I forget?"

The other students continued to make no sound.

"I believe this poem, as Mr. Emrys theorized, is about a man who is growing old and too scared to admit his love for one of his close friends,” Arthur explained. “He has no hope for the future, and the past is just as concerning. The two most prominent themes are past adventure, and worry about what is to come. 'Do I dare disturb the universe?' I think the reason why this poem is so widely loved is because we can all relate to this. We are all growing older, and we have all experienced fear over feelings, whether it be for someone or towards something. The truth is, no matter what I say, we will never genuinely know what Eliot was trying to say... if he was trying to say anything at all."

Arthur cleared his throat.

"And that's what we'll be doing in this course: trying to figure out what the author is telling us, personally. Whether it's taking a risk and telling someone how you feel, or something as simple as describing the leaves on the ground during winter. You're dismissed."

And with that, people quickly began to file out of the class.

Arthur returned to the chair behind his desk.

He gave no recognition to Merlin as he left.

–

Drinks that night had helped, though Merlin found himself oddly excited for class the next day. 

He had bitched about Arthur all night long, basing his complaints on assumptions.

I bet he fucks women and then writes them papers on how they could improve.

I bet he made his daddy get him his own flat in uni.

I bet he drops his credit cards in front of people just to impress them.

I bet he lies about playing instruments, or reading sophisticated literature.

I bet he sleeps on his stomach.

I bet he writes poetry with the same passion that he reads it.

I bet his kisses taste like strawberries.

Those thoughts were not helping.

\--

Merlin had awoken to find Arthur's image burnt into his mind, and one word cycling through his brain: infatuation.

It angered him, to be wrapped up in the cocoon of someone who paid him no respect.

The butterflies in his stomach were raging a war against the fire ants in his brain.

The shower water was cold against his skin, as it always was in his dorm. He would have been lying if he said he didn't have to shake off images of Arthur's warm, tanned skin pressed against his own as the water cascaded over him.

He wore blue, a button-up shirt, adorned with his red neckerchief. He spent a shameful amount of time checking himself in the mirror, and the same amount of time ridiculing himself for it.

His walk to class was equally conflicted.

Everything seemed to be, since Arthur.

"Look who decided to arrive on time this afternoon! Did mummy remember to wake you up?" Arthur's smirk at him as he entered the classroom was infuriating.

"Some of us have a social life outside of writing broody poetry, Pendragon. Makes it hard to get up in the morning," Merlin snapped back at him, annoyed.

"You say that like you pulled someone last night, Emrys."

Merlin only smirked and took a seat at his desk confidently. 

No one else seemed to notice the exchange that left Merlin's heart pounding in his chest like a kick drum. 

Arthur began teaching promptly at 1:00, wasting no time.

"Today we'll be reading and analyzing 'Sonnet 30' by Edmund Spenser. It's a sonnet, written in Spenserian form. Should be simple enough, yes?"

The class responded in the form of few nods and murmured agreements.

Arthur began reading with the same lack of bias towards any one emotion he had last time.

"My love is like ice, and I to fire:  
How comes it then that her cold so great  
Is not dissolved through my so hot desire,  
But harder grows the more I her entreat?  
Or how comes it that my exceeding heat  
Is not allayed by her heart frozen cold,  
But that I burn much more in boiling sweat,  
And feel my flames augmented manifold?  
What more miraculous thing may be told,  
That fire, which all things melts, should harden ice,  
And ice, which is congeal'd with senseless cold,  
Should kindle fire by wonderful device?  
Such is the power of love in the gentle mind,  
That it can alter all the course of kind."

The class sat in silence for a moment, pondering their thoughts. The other students seemed absorbed or confused, though to Merlin, it was obvious. 

Maybe I did it wrong, he thought silently. That would be his luck, and then Arthur would mock him again.

"Does anyone have any ideas for what this might be about?" Arthur asked the classroom.

Merlin stayed silent.

"A man loves a woman who is different than him?" a girl with a green shirt chimes confidently.

"He's hopeful for the future," a dark haired boy to the right of Merlin adds.

Arthur wrote the suggestions down on the chalkboard.

"Alright, interesting thoughts... anyone else?"

"He's angry with her, but she is neutral," a small girl with bright blonde hair in the front row mumbles.

Merlin scoffed, and a few people turned to look at him.

"Something to share, Merlin?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe I read it wrong, but I thought something completely different. To me, it's about a man who loves a woman who doesn't love him back. In fact, she loves him less and he loves her more. And he's in anguish, because he loves her deeply, but she's always a bit awful to him. In the end, he's not hopeful, he's just marveling at how strange it is for love to have the power to change things like that. He's not hopeful, he's not angry, he's in love and he's confused as hell."

A grin betrayed Arthur's previous impartiality. 

"I side with Merlin on this particular case. Mostly because of lines 5 and 6. 'Or how comes it that my exceeding heat/Is not allayed by her heart frozen cold.' He loves her, and no matter how badly she treats him, he can't stop loving her. God, that's a bit beautiful, isn't it?"

Arthur was still smiling up at him, his blue eyes keeping Merlin startled like a deer in headlights.

He cleared his throat, as if remembering he's the professor here.

"But, that's the beauty of poetry. It is whatever you wish it to be. Your interpretation reveals just as much of yourself as it does about the writer." Arthur smiled encouragingly at the other students.

Merlin couldn't help but wonder if Arthur actually used their analysis of the poetry to learn about them. He prayed he didn't.

–

Merlin felt like a sonnet. He felt like strategic rhyme schemes, stressed syllables, feelings stretched by metaphors. And that is how he knew he was fucked.

He plopped into his seat at their usual table, rubbing his eyes.

Gwaine, Gwen, and Lance looked on in amusement.

"Bad?" Gwen asked, clearing her throat.

Merlin opened his mouth a few times, close to saying something, and then thought better of it. But it still managed to slip out.

"He's perfect."

Gwaine groaned. 

"I mean it. He's actually perfect. No, I hate him. But I think he's amazing. Does that make sense?"

"No." Gwen's look was obviously one of the I-told-you-so sort.

"He is amazing at what he does, and he is honestly the most beautiful human being I've ever seen. I mean it, Gwen. But he is a prat. I swear to God, sometimes he just –" Merlin broke off with a groan.

"What are you going to do?" Lance seemed to be the only one who was genuinely worried. 

Merlin thought for a moment before responding.

"Write sonnets about his lips and drown myself in ice cream and alcohol."

\--

Merlin's stomach churns the moment he wakes up and sees a distinct lack of light streaming through his curtains.

Arthur's class started at one.

He began to panic, momentarily tricking himself into believing that he might have woken up early, it might be 6 am, and he could sleep for a few more hours.

The 5:30 pm flashing on his home screen tells him he's a fool.

"Mother of fuck!" Merlin shouted, throwing his head back, the headboard's wood only increasing his irritation.

His head throbbed as he got dressed haphazardly. His jeans were old and barely fit, sagging low on his hips. His shirt is deep blue, but too small and makes his red briefs clearly visible above his pantline. He pushes his glasses further up on his nose, and bursts out of his dorm to sprint to Arthur's office. The campus is nearly deserted, most people having finished classes for the day and heading off to dinner with their mates. 

Merlin grinned as he saw Arthur's building in the distance, and promptly screamed in frustration when the sprinklers turned on and soaked his clothes. 

Fucking universities fucking obsessed with green fucking grass.

His trainers made an unpleasant squelching noise as he walked into the literature/English building, tracing his eyes eagerly over the nameplates on the doors.

"Prof. Arthur J. Pendragon." the nameplate reads. The light in the office is on, so Merlin knocks on the door hesitantly.

"Come in." Arthur's muffled voice calls from the other side of the door.

Merlin winces as he opens the door and squelches into the office.

Arthur's face remains serious for a millisecond, his lips twitching, and then breaking out into hearty laughter at Merlin's soaked state.

Merlin rolls his eyes. His arms are folded as he waits for Arthur to finish.

He can't help but notice Arthur's smile, beaming as he laughs. The stretch of his neck when his head is thrown back in joy. He's laughing so hard Merlin thinks he might break a rib.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Emrys?" Arthur asks, his laughter calmed to a giggle.

"I missed your lecture today."

Merlin pushed his hands into his pockets, eyes darting around the office awkwardly. 

Arthur's body is splayed in his chair, legs spread and bent at the knee. His elbows rest on the armrests, one crooked up for his hand to support his face. He turns a bit pink at the memory of a wank in the shower he'd had, thinking of Arthur getting Merlin over his desk. Arthur's hands are large, obviously strong. He can't help but think of how they're good spanking hands.

A shiver goes down his spine, and Arthur frowns.

"You're freezing. We can talk about this at my flat, come on." Arthur says, his voice strong and steady. Merlin knows it's an order.

Arthur's car is expensive, ostentatiously so. His seats are heated, and leather, and Merlin feels awful for dripping water all over them. Arthur doesn't mention it. His flat is a short drive off of campus. The drive is silent save for the soft music playing from Arthur's stereo. Somehow, it isn't awkward.

Arthur's flat is simple, nice enough, but not extravagant. It is a weird balance to his flashy car. The thing Merlin notices the most is the books that seem to be everywhere in the flat. Merlin sees a few unmarked leatherbound journals in Arthur's sitting room, one balancing on the armrest of his couch. It is a brilliant shade of forest green, with a ribbon marking the place towards the middle. It looks immaculate from the outside, more important than the others. Merlin reached a hand down to grasp it, before Arthur's voice startles him.

"Merlin." Arthur's eyes are wide, his shoulders hunched anxiously.

"Er, sorry." Merlin mumbles, placing the journal back on the armrest.

"Follow me."

Merlin walks after Arthur into his bedroom. Arthur opens his closet to look for warm clothes, and Merlin looks around eagerly. He never thought he'd ever see where Arthur lived. The room is expansive, and littered with collections of poetry, and empty mugs. The bed is large, everything on it white. The comforter looks fluffy, and is in a state of disarray, as are the thick pillows. Merlin wants to scold Arthur for not making his bed, but he feels it would be strange to break this silence. The bed and books seem to be the only things Arthur really splurges on. There's a stack of ungraded quizzes on the bedside table, which makes Merlin's smile fade a bit. Arthur is his professor, nothing more. He's not been invited to his home on a date, he won't be sleeping in that bed tonight, and Arthur is not his to touch.

"Here. Change." Arthur pushes a t-shirt and sweatpants into his hands.

"It's alright, I'll be fine." Merlin smiles weakly.

"Change, Merlin."

Merlin nods, and walks to Arthur's bathroom, his cheeks pink from embarrassment. Arthur feels sorry for him, that's all.

The bathroom is adjoined to the bedroom, and quite small. There's room enough for a toilet, a sink, and a shower, but not much else. Merlin shivers as he discards the wet clothes, staring at his naked form in the mirror for a moment. He is slight, and pale. His glasses make his eyes seem bigger, his wet bangs hang just past his eyebrows.

The clothes Arthur gave him are warm, and baggy. The sweatpants hang past his heels, and the shirt, which must have been the smallest Arthur had, still hangs off his form. They are Arthur's clothes, faded and comforting, and it makes Merlin's stomach flutter. 

Merlin flicks open the medicine cabinet curiously, though he feels like a bit of a creep for doing so. There's a toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, soap, a razor, deodorant, and cologne that Merlin guiltily takes a smell of. Just past the cologne is a long blue bottle that Merlin automatically recognizes as lube. It is half-empty. There's a box of condoms right next to it.

Merlin blushes, closes the cabinet, and steps out immediately.

When he walks back into the sitting room, Arthur hands him a cup of tea and gestures to the couch.

"So, I missed class this afternoon." Merlin clears his throat, looking over at Arthur, who has changed from his clothes into a red t-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants. He leans casually in the doorframe. 

"I don't expect everyone to be at every lecture. I'd like you to, but there's no way that would happen." Arthur shrugs. He looks like he might be one of Merlin's classmates, like this.

"But I feel bad."

Arthur quirks his eyebrows. "You hate my class."

"It's my favourite." Merlin blurts, and looks down at his tea the moment he says it.

"I can't help but wonder what changed your mind."

Merlin shrugged this time.

"What can I do to make up for it?" Merlin asked, his eyes wide and bright as he looked up at Arthur.

"You can start by not being such a layabout and showing up late." Arthur smirked, walking to plop down on the other side of the couch.

"It was one time!" Merlin protested, grinning over at him.

"My class is at one in the afternoon, and you slept straight through it. You're a lazy little shit." Arthur laughed, using a throw pillow to smack Merlin's arm.

"When I first met you, I thought you were a dick." Merlin says, before he can think better of it.

"There is a large number of people who would agree with you." Arthur doesn't seem bothered, despite the fact.

"You're not. You pretend you are, but you're a good person. I know you are."

Arthur is silent.

"You're a good student, Merlin." His eyes meet Merlin's, and Merlin almost feels the line in the sand.

Merlin just nods, too afraid to say anything more.

Arthur stands up and walks to his room, returning with a pillow and a thick blanket.

"Stay here tonight."

Merlin curls up on the couch, placing his glasses on the wooden floor. 

As Arthur leaves the room, he speaks up.

"Thank you, Arth-...Professor."

Arthur nods. "Merlin?"

Merlin looks over at him.

"If you want to make up missing class...impress me."

Without another word, Arthur flicks off the light and retreats to his bedroom.

\--

There's a plate of pancakes on the kitchen table when Merlin wakes up. They're chocolate chip, and Arthur's set a can of whipped cream to the side. 

A small note rests in front of the plate, reading:

"Didn't want to wake you. Have a good afternoon, sleeping beauty. - A"

Merlin's grin spans the length of the Atlantic Ocean.

\--

He has a geometrical theory class that afternoon, and with a belly full of chocolate chip pancakes, the walk is pleasant.

He has no focus anymore. Everything is Arthur. The man has reached the untouchable, maths. Merlin always, no matter what was happening in his life, could sit down and focus on maths, working with complete dedication. Not now. Triangles and tangents do not compare to the smile of Arthur Pendragon. 

\--

Merlin spends all day thinking of what Arthur meant when he said to impress him. 

So that night, when his friends sit down and promptly start guilting him for ditching them the night before, Merlin just apologizes and turns his head back to the yellow legal pad sitting in front of him.

At first, they mock him for how rushed he and Arthur are being, insisting that Arthur's immediate reaction to bring Merlin back to his place was absolutely forward and flirtatious. Merlin just focuses on the poetry.

His friends are too eager to help with writing the poem, once they realize what it's about.

"O Arthur, your fine arse gives me the gift of many orgasms!" Gwaine exclaims overdramatically, enticing a roar of laughter from Lance and Gwen.

"He's not going to know it's about him, stupid." Merlin insists, shoving Gwaine's arm.

"Who else could it be about? Doesn't he realize you're completely up for it?" Gwen asked.

"Apparently not. And he never will. The issue is, this is the only thing I know how to write about." Merlin groans, taking a gulp of his pint.

A few scribbles later, Merlin slams his pen down on the table. "Done."

Gwen gestures for him to hand over the notepad, and he does so reluctantly. 

"Untitled  
by Merlin Emrys

My mother always told me  
Silence  
Is golden

It is only in adulthood that I find that to be true  
I am silent when he looks at me  
And silent when he smiles

My heart roars  
Bangs on the glass for release  
Screams words of love that aren't meant to be heard

When my back arches  
My lips part  
My fingers breach

I am still silent  
For the walls are thin  
And his name is loud on my lips

The climax  
That comes s-s-stuttering forward  
The curl of my toes

His name is red  
Pushing my mind to it's brink  
And pushing my hands to action

His body pushing into mine  
A claim in the dark  
A bruise of secrecy

Everything is silent  
A fabrication  
For when everyone is asleep

Because the walls are thin  
And his name is loud on my lips"

\--

Merlin hands the sheet of yellow paper to Arthur at the beginning of class next Tuesday, smilingly nervously. He slumps in his desk, trying not to stare at Arthur as he reads the poem that is erotic in the most blatant way. 

I just handed my professor a poem I wrote about how I think about him when I'm wanking.

Merlin turns red, staring down at his desk.

They have a test that day, over literary devices and rhyme schemes. Merlin is finished within 20 minutes, the first one done by far. He sets his papers down on Arthur's desk, and smiles at his professor shyly. Arthur gestures for him to move closer, bending so that his lips brush against Merlin's ear for a milisecond. It's long enough to make Merlin shiver.

"Thank you for sharing that with me. It's very...personal. Raw. I appreciate you trusting me with that." Arthur's voice is a deep whisper in Merlin's ear.

"Impressed?" Merlin whispers back.

Arthur grins before retreating back to his desk.

Merlin doesn't ask for the poem back.

\--

"Percy!" Merlin exclaims, tackling the huge man before him into a bear hug. Percival'd been a senior when Gwaine, Lance, and Gwen were freshmen, and it was rare for him to be able to visit during the week. 

They corralled around the table, Percy's arm wrapped around Gwaine's shoulder as he took a drink of his boyfriend's pint.  
"So what's the occasion?" Merlin asked curiously. "You never visit during the week."

Percy cleared his throat. "Ah, well, I understand our resident teenager is a little bit lovesick." 

Merlin winced. "And that's why you're here?"

"Had to call in the big guns, mate." Lance said, patting Merlin's shoulder sympathetically. "Only because we care about you."

Merlin nodded. "Alright, get on with it."

"I had a few classes with Arthur, our first three years. Bright kid, brilliant at economics, perfect business major. He had a brilliant car, nice flat, rotating bedroom door, all of that shit. He acted like he was royalty. Everyone called him Prince Arthur, just as a laugh. Then, one semester, it just stops. He moves in on campus, nowhere to be found in any of the econ or business classes, gets a job at some shoddy bookstore. He just...changed. Still a prat, walking around like he owns the place, but he seemed just...off, yknow?" 

"What happened?" Merlin asked, voice soft with worry.

"Told his dad he wanted to become a poet. Transfer to an English major. His dad, proper dickhead, cut him off. Arthur's mum died when he was born, his dad always blamed him for it. That was the final straw, I suppose." Percy frowned.

"So what's your point, Perce?" Merlin asked, clearing his throat.

"He doesn't let people in, Merlin. Students, friends, family, nobody. Not after what his dad did to him. Doesn't have relationships, doesn't go out with friends. Just him, his poetry, and whatever bird he can kick out in the morning."

Merlin shook his head. "Maybe this is what he needs. To be loved unconditionally."

Percy shrugged. Gwaine lifted his glass. "To unconditional love, Prince Arthur, and our Merlin."

They clinked glasses.

\--  
Merlin starts leaving poems on Arthur's desk before class. They smile conspiratorially at each other, like it's their secret. They're all about "him", the nameless man that Arthur surely knows Merlin is in love with.

One day, Arthur asks Merlin to stay after class, to talk about "missing tests" or something of the like. Merlin is almost worried, until:  
"So, who is he?"

Merlin furrows his eyebrows.

"Who is who?"

Arthur rolls his eyes. "The boy you're writing about, idiot. All of the poems are about him. He must be fairly amazing, to give you an interest in poetry."

Merlin shrugs casually. "You don't know him, he's in one of my maths classes."

Arthur nods. "Have you asked him out?"

Merlin laughs. "Very funny, Professor."

"Why is that funny?"

"He's perfect. And straight, or so I understand. No chance." Merlin shrugs again, his voice light, as if he's accepted his fate.

Arthur furrowed his brows. "How can you be so casual, so willing to give up on him? You've written all of these beautiful things about him. You love him, don't you?"

"More than anything."

"Then he deserves to know. He deserves to know these words are for him."

"He will, someday." Merlin turns to walk to the door.

"You can call me Arthur, you know." Arthur says softly.

"I'll see you next week, Arthur."

"Have a nice day, Merlin."

\--

The next poem Merlin hands to Arthur is the closest he's come to admitting his feelings for his professor.

He knows Arthur will assume it's written to "Him", this fictional boy in Merlin's Euclidean geometry class. But it doesn't stop his heart from pounding out of his chest when he slides the slip of paper onto Arthur's desk.  
"I love you  
Full stop.

You like me  
Well enough I suppose.

You don't know  
Much about anything like love

Because your daddy  
Told you no

So often that you  
Decided you weren't worth

The love that I  
Am dying to give you.

You decided  
In that stupid brain of yours

That nobody could love you  
With the same capacity

That you have  
To love them.

It is infuriating  
Because you are beautiful

And smart  
And funny

And deserving of the love  
I feel

Inside of my chest  
Thrumming like the bass 

Of the songs that you  
Listened to in school.

It is infuriating  
Because I want you.

Because I want your lips  
On mine

And lazy Sundays  
Spent in bed with tea

Where you read me poems  
And I tell you about circumscribed circles

And there are pancakes shared  
Because we can't part long enough to have two separate plates

And I want your hands  
Strong on my hips

And the butterflies in my stomach  
Flutter in time with yours

It is almost silly  
How I think

One day  
These thoughts and wishes and hopes

Will vanish  
Like my father did

Without a trace  
Leaving a cold indifference on my skin

When I know  
I could spend all day

Worshipping at the temple of you."

 

 

This is the first time he's come close to talking about his father leaving since it happened. Merlin wants to believe that this will prove something to Arthur, that his past doesn't make his future, but he doesn't know if it will matter.

All he knows is that Arthur will read those words, and he won't know they're for him, but he'll know that Merlin isn't afraid to love someone. And he wants it to give Arthur courage to love, whether it's him or not.

Arthur looks up and their eyes lock together. Arthur's eyes are filled with something Merlin doesn't recognize, but the flash of emotion is gone, because class has started.

Arthur's voice comes out rough and shaky at first, but he clears his throat and presses on. 

"Today we'll be reading 'somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond' by E.E. Cummings."

Arthur's off, his shoulders are sagging and his chest seems to heave with scared breaths. Merlin can feel his pulse respond to the worry coursing through his veins. Maybe he pressed too far, maybe Arthur knew how he felt, and was now having a fucking breakdown in the middle of a lecture.

Arthur begins reading from a small blue volume, but Merlin is watching all of the blood drain from Arthur's face, and the quiver in his Adam's apple.

"somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond  
any experience, your eyes have their silence:  
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,  
or which i cannot touch because they are too near  
your slightest look easily will unclose me  
though i have closed myself as fingers,  
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens  
(touching skillfully, mysteriously)her first rose  
or if your wish be to close me, i and  
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,  
as when the heart of this flower imagines  
the snow carefully everywhere descending;  
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals  
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture  
compels me with the colour of its countries,  
rendering death and forever with each breathing  
(i do not know what is is about you that closes  
and opens; only something in me understands  
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)  
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands" 

Merlin suddenly understands why Arthur keeps his voice steady when he reads. When Arthur's voice is riddled with emotion, the poetry is positively earth-shattering. 

Merlin is in another galaxy while his classmates analyze the poem. He thinks of how the poem he wrote seems to have shaken Arthur to the core. How no one should have that type of power over anyone. Especially someone as strong and independent as Arthur. Arthur, the scared boy hiding in a confident, grown man's body. 

But something shifts in Arthur towards the end of class. Like an epiphany has run through his body, he is back to the ice of his persona.

When people begin filing out of the lecture hall, Arthur gestures for Merlin to stay back. 

"You have to tell him, Merlin."

Merlin waits for a moment.

"I will. Eventually."

"Why are you so scared?"

"Didn't you read it? He's too afraid, he's not brave enough to be loved like that. Not right now. He needs..."

"You."

Merlin laughs and shakes his head.

"No. I'm obsessive and awkward and hopelessly in love with him. He barely even knows me, how could I walk up to him, and tell him I write poetry about him every day, that I can't go a minute without thinking of him, that I love him more than anything?"

Arthur thinks about that for a while.

"I don't know, Merlin. But if you are brave enough to show me these poems, you're certainly brave enough to tell him how you feel."

And god, Merlin wishes it were that simple.

\--

That night, Merlin hunts Arthur down on the preferred social network of the masses, and adds him as a friend. 

Arthur doesn't post a lot, it's mainly pictures of him that other people have taken, and conversations with old uni friends and footie club mates.

He finds a picture of Arthur from his own freshman year, and he looks like a boy. He is grinning, his crooked teeth endearing, his footie kit hanging off of him in a way that is strangely youthful. The next picture is from Arthur's senior year, him crouched over a table, leather notebook laid out in front of him, pen tucked behind his ear. His expression is solemn, his shoulders are huge, and his jaw defined.

It makes Merlin frown.

The transition from a boy Arthur to the Arthur he knew now, on this website, was one click.

But in actuality, it was countless cups of coffee, thousands of words of poetry, hundreds of nights spent working at a bookstore, dozens of turned-down dates, two wet eyes, and one absentee father.

Arthur's movement from boy to man was less of a gradual pass of birthdays, and more of a shove down a flight of stairs.

Merlin desperately wishes to cling to Arthur's chest and tell him, tell that boy in the footie kit, that he was worth it. That he was worth being loved, no matter what anyone said. 

So he creates. He plays desperate, longing notes on his guitar, and piano. He writes furiously, some pages are just streams of consciousness, some are poems, and some are just words.

He's never felt so wrung out in his entire life. He wants to create Arthur, to bring him into his arms, conjure him out of chords and rhymes. But he can't, and it kills him.

He cries himself to sleep that night, gripping his chest as if he thinks that will heal the hollow feeling that Arthur has left in his unknowing wake.

\--

Merlin hasn't shaved in a week, earning a surprised look from Arthur when he walks into the hall, and slides a new poem onto his desk.

"Trying even harder to look like a coffee house reject, Merlin?" Arthur teases.

"If at first you don't succeed..." Merlin grinned back at him as he took his seat.

As usual, Arthur begins at 1:00 sharp, leaving no time for stragglers.

"Today, you will begin writing a paper. It should be 6 pages long, at the very least, about your favorite poem. It doesn't have to be one we've read together. Due next Wednesday. I'm really taking it easy, so be grateful."

Merlin hears a few stifled groans as people begin pulling their laptops out of their bags. Merlin does the same itself, pulling up his browser and tapping at the keys idly. 

"Arthur Pendragon is online." a small pop-up on the bottom of his browser reads.

Merlin grins, looking up to see a very bored Arthur staring at his Macbook.

What's up? M

Arthur smirks.

Oh, you know, teaching. You? A

I think I'm supposed to be writing a paper my dollop-head professor assigned us. Oh well. M

What the fuck is a dollop-head? A

In two words? Professor Pendragon. M

I think the term you're looking for is "stud muffin", Merlin. A

Merlin snorts.

"Stud muffin". Okay, mum. M

Don't call me your mum. A

Why not? Hunith's lovely. M

Hunith hasn't read poetry about your masturbatory escapades. A

A blush rises to Merlin's cheeks, and Arthur grins from behind his laptop screen.

Hunith has caught me in the middle of a masturbatory escapade, so I wouldn't say you have the upper hand here. M

Naughty Merlin. Letting mummy catch you touching yourself and watching filth. A

Shut up. It wasn't like that. M  
How was it, then? A

I was 15. M

Oh, so it happened last week? A

Ha. I'm 18, thank you kindly. M

A wee lad. A

Says the old fart. M

Touche. A

So when are you going to tell Romeo how you feel? A

You're never going to let me live this down, are you, Pendragon? M

Not as long as you keep dumping sappy erotic poetry about him on my desk every morning. A

Are you complaining? M

No. They're good, I like them. A

You like my poems about unrequited love and masturbation? M

Who said anything about unrequited? A

The cruel god who sent such an angel to walk the Earth amongst peasants such as myself. M

So self deprecating. This guy really has you all in a tizzy, doesn't he? A

More than you will ever know. M

Kiss him. A

Haha. No. M

Pretend to be drunk and snog his little teenage brains out. A

No. And he's not a teenager, clotpole. M

An older man? You little hussy. A

Oh yes. He turns 92 next month. M

Robbing the cradle, is he? A

He likes them still on the teat. M

Arthur bursts into laughter, causing everyone in the class to gawk awkwardly. Arthur pays them no mind.

That's disgusting. A

No nipple play for the mighty Pendragon? M

There is a large difference between a healthy appreciation for nipples, and having sex with people young enough to try to get food from your own. A

Fair enough. You're more of a tie-you-up-and-fuck-you-til-you're-sore-and-bruised kind of guy, anyway. M

No comment. A

Merlin grins, snickering quietly.

Now we're getting somewhere. M

Shut up. A

You're just embarrassed because I know what you like. M

I'm not embarrassed. A

De nile ain't just a river in Egypt, Arthur. M

You're a dork. A colossal dork. A

Maybe. But you're a dominating, poetry writing, snarky sex fiend of a professor. M

Behave yourself, young man, or you'll be getting spankings after class. A

Yes sir. M

They grin at each other this time, looking up from their computers to make eye contact and giggle quietly to themselves.

\--

He gushes about the conversation later that night, at the pub. 

"You were practically sexting." 

"We were not!" Merlin exclaims, flicking Gwen's arm defensively.

"Mate. He totally wants to shag your brains out." Gwaine says sagely, grinning.

"I'm with Gwaine, that's some heavy flirting, Merlin." Lance adds, his smile genuine.

"It was just a joke, alright?" Merlin protests, taking a gulp of his pint.

"Lance, do you ever talk to your mates about your fetishes, and then make a joke directly involving them participating in said fetish?" Gwaine turns to ask Lance curiously.

"Can't say I have, mate."

Merlin groans. "It's not like that! He was just playing around."

"Arthur Pendragon doesn't play around, Merlin. He wants you." Gwen sounds positive in her assessment.

"Whatever." Merlin sighs and rolls his eyes.

"Maybe it's the stubble." Gwaine teases, ruffling Merlin's black mop of hair affectionately.

"Maybe you're an idiot." Merlin pushes Gwaine's hand away.

Lance slams his hand down on the table as if on a quiz show.

"All of the above?"

That makes even Merlin laugh.

\--

The semester seems to fly by in a stream of poems and discontent, much to no-one's surprise. 

On the last day of Arthur's class for the semester, Merlin's heart aches in a way that is now commonplace. He won't be seeing Arthur for 2 weeks, and the thought pains him.

Everyone else seems to be perfectly gleeful to go back home for the holidays.

"What are your plans for your break?" Merlin asks, kicking his feet boyishly as he sits on the edge of Arthur's desk.

"Dog-sitting. My sister's decided she's going on some sort of skiing spree in Vienna, which means that I'm going to be looking after her spoiled little shite of a Collie during my holiday."

Merlin chuckles and beams at Arthur, but the knowledge that Arthur probably hasn't had a Christmas with his family in years makes him feel very small. 

"And what are you going to do? Visiting Hunith?"

Merlin blushes slightly and looks away.

"Er, no. We don't have the money for me to go home for Christmas this year."

"But the dorms are closing. Where are you going to stay?"

Merlin had made plans to stay with Gaius, as Gwen, Gwaine, and Lance would all be off gallivanting with their families and/or significant others.

Merlin just shrugged. "I'll figure something out."

"I'll figure it out for you. You're welcome at mine."

Merlin had to restrain himself from pumping his fist in the air in a display of victory.

"I couldn't, Arthur. That's too generous."

"Shut up, Merlin. Collect your things from your room, and I'll pick you up at 5 tonight, yeah?"

Merlin grinned. "Yeah. Thanks so much, mate."

\--

"You will never believe what just happened to me." Merlin said cockily as he slid into his chair at their table. The pub was busier than usual, filled with people celebrating the beginning of their break.

"Fill us in then." Gwen said, smiling at him eagerly. 

"Did he give you a Christmas present?" Lance teased, his arm wrapped around Gwen's waist. 

"Was it his dick?" Gwaine smirked.

"Even better. Well, almost. Guess who has the privilege of staying with Arthur Pendragon himself while you lot are off frolicking with your mummies and daddies?"

Gwen's jaw dropped. "Shut up. You are joking. Shut up."

"I am definitely not joking. He's picking me up tonight and bringing my stuff over to his place."

Gwaine clapped him on the back, laughing enthusiastically. "You are brilliant, Merlin."

"Well done." Lance said seriously, reaching across the table to give Merlin's hand a firm shake.

"What about Gaius?" Gwen asked.

"I told him I've had a spiritual awakening and am spending my holiday on a kibbutz in Israel."

"Rather than a sexual awakening and a kibbutz in Arthur Pendragon's pants? He bought that?" Gwaine asked, eyebrows raised.

"Mazel tov." Lance grinned.

\--  
Merlin stood outside his building, shivering slightly. Lance and Gwen had left hours ago, Lance giving him a firm hug and Gwen, a peck on each cheek. Gwaine had tucked a few condoms into his back pocket when they'd hugged, much to Merlin's chagrin. 

He stared up at the stars absently, smiling to himself at his good fortune. He may not have Arthur, but he would be spending 2 weeks living with him, and that was amazing enough. He would be lying if he said there wasn't a bit of hope blooming in his chest at the prospect of being in such close quarters with Arthur.

Arthur's sleek car pulling up to the curb called him out of his thoughts. Merlin piled his things into the back, and slid into the front seat.

"Hey." Arthur beamed at him, making Merlin's breath catch in his throat. 

"Christ, what's got you in such a good mood?" Merlin asked, his voice sounding giddier than he meant it to.

Arthur shrugged, and began to drive.

Merlin indulged in a grin as he stared out of the window. The song playing from Arthur's stereo was more upbeat this time, something Merlin didn't quite recognize. 

"Thank you for letting me stay with you."

"Of course. It'll be good." 

When they arrived at Arthur's flat, Arthur carried Merlin's bags to Arthur's bedroom.

"Arthur...?"

"Did you think I was going to make you sleep on the couch for two weeks?" Arthur asked.

"Where will you sleep?"

Arthur frowned. "I hadn't thought of that. The couch, I suppose." He shrugged.

"That's hardly fair."

"Too bad."

Merlin sighed, smiling at him.

"You're too nice for your own good." 

Arthur snorted. "You're the first person to ever say something like that to me."

"Maybe you should be this nice to everyone then."

Arthur shrugged. "Nah."

\--

The doorbell rang later that evening. Merlin looked down at his flour-ridden clothing and hands. 

"Piss."

He sighed as he opened the door. He was faced with a tall man with curly auburn hair, who was holding a cat that was similarly auburn.

"Ah, hello." He said brightly, and then, as if an afterthought, "Huh, didn't know he had a boyfriend."

Arthur is gay?  
"Oh," Merlin blushed. "I'm not his boyfriend. I'm just staying with him for the holidays. I'm Merlin."

Arthur is gay.

The man's smile widened. He stuck out his hand for Merlin to shake. "Leon. I'm a friend of Arthur's. I've heard a lot about you."

Arthur is gay. Arthur is gay. Arthur is gay. Arthur is gay. Shut the fuck up, Merlin, we can worry about this later. 

"Good things, I hope." Merlin chuckled.

"Almost always." Leon winked at him. The cat in his arms meowed, irritated.

"And this is Chivalry." Leon explained, scratching behind the cat's ear.

"You named your cat after a virtue?" Merlin asked, reaching to pat Chivalry's head.

"Of c-"

"Leon?" Arthur asked. Merlin shuffled out of the doorframe. 

"Hey, mate. I was wondering, could you keep Chivalry for the holiday?"

Arthur groaned. 

"I know, I know. But I really need this favor. I got invited on a skiing trip with E-"

"Fine, whatever, you go out and get laid, we'll look after the lazy shit." Arthur sighed.

Leon grinned, handing Chivalry over to Merlin. "Thanks, you two. Really. I owe you one, definitely."

Merlin nodded. "It'll be fun."

"Actually, Arthur, can I have a word?" Leon asked. Arthur rolled his eyes, and followed Leon outside. Merlin closed the door, and set Chivalry down. He walked back into the kitchen, frowning to himself. He glanced out of the window to look at Leon and Arthur. Leon was laughing and smacking Arthur on the back, and Arthur seemed to be a violent shade of red. Merlin chuckled to himself. Arthur was never that embarrassed. He shrugged, and went back to icing the cookies he'd made. 

A few minutes later, the door slammed shut, and Arthur shuffled back into the kitchen.

"Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"You're gay."

"Pardon?"

Merlin cursed. "Fuck, sorry, I didn't mean that to sound so...Leon asked, well, said that I was your boyfriend. Assumed, rather. Are you gay?"

Arthur bit his lip. "Bisexual, yeah. I thought you knew?"

"I didn't"

Arthur shrugged. "It's not exactly a secret. Now you know."

Merlin's heart was working itself into overdrive. 

"How did Leon know you'd be in town? For Christmas, I mean."

Arthur cleared his throat. "I haven't really done Christmas for...5 years now."

"Why?" Merlin asked, though he knew the answer.

"The last time I celebrated Christmas was the year my father disowned me." Arthur said quietly.

"Oh." Merlin paused. "We don't have to celebrate, if you don't want to. I understand if you..."

"No. It'll be good. It's been 5 years. And... I usually don't have anyone to celebrate with."

Merlin's chest clenched. He turned to face Arthur, and found that their faces were only a breath away.

"I was 7 when my dad left."

Arthur's eyes seemed pained.

"But it doesn't matter now, alright? We can't waste our lives being mad at them for the mistakes they made. We're worthy of being loved, do you understand?" Merlin whispered.

He gasped when Arthur hugged him tightly. 

"Sometimes it doesn't feel that way." He mumbled.

Merlin shook his head. "No, Arthur. There's nothing wrong with you."

He felt Arthur's tears drop onto his shoulder. He didn't move an inch.

\--

The doorbell rang again as Merlin was sitting down to eat. 

This time, it was a woman. Her hair was black as raven feathers, and her eyes were the same shade of bright blue as Arthur's. Her smile was curious.

"You must be Morgana."

"And you must be Merlin."

Merlin smiled. "Arthur's spoken to you about me?"

"Oh, endlessly." Morgana smirked.

"You bloody harpy." Arthur growled from behind Merlin.

"Thank you for inviting me for dinner, brother dearest."

"I wasn't aware I had." Arthur mumbled, folding his arms. 

"You also neglected to tell me you had company." Morgana said teasingly. 

Merlin felt a cold snuffle at his feet, and looked down at the puppy whose leash Morgana had been holding. He grinned, bending down to pat the dog's head.

"Oh, hello. I hadn't noticed you."

"We're having pizza." Arthur grumbled.

"Perfect." Morgana said cheerfully, taking the dog's leash off and letting it trot into Arthur's flat. Merlin stood up, and walked back to take his seat.

Morgana was beautiful, there was no denying it. She slid into the chair across from Merlin elegantly, crossing her legs and smiling at him kindly.

"I feel bad for you, spending your holiday cooped up with my sadsack of a brother."

Merlin smiled. "He's a companionable sadsack."

"Shut up, the both of you." Arthur grumbled as he sat down and began to scarf down pizza.

"So, Merlin. No...girlfriend to spend Christmas with?" Morgana asked. Arthur choked on his bite.

"Uh, no. I'm gay." Merlin said sheepishly.

"And no one's snatched you up yet? No nice, intelligent, older man to whisk you off of your feet?" Morgana asked, reaching across the table to pat his cheek affectionately. Merlin blushed.

"No, unfortunately." He admitted.

"Merlin is interested in a boy in his Euclidean geometry course." Arthur said, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"Ah, so there is a boy." Morgana grinned.

Merlin nodded, blushing even darker.

"Tell us about him."

"Morgana, that's hardly any of your business, is it?" Arthur chided.

"No, that's alright." Merlin mumbled.

"Well, Arthur's already told me about the poems, but he's full of shite, so I wanted to talk to the source." Morgana teased. 

Merlin shrugged. "He's very inspirational." 

Morgana laughed, and Arthur glared daggers at her.  
\--

Merlin had been pouring drinks when it happened. 

He'd bumped into the stove, causing him to trip and land flat on his bum.

"Are you alright?" Arthur asked, eyes wide.  
"Yeah, I'm fine." Merlin chuckled, standing up and blushing despite himself. He continued dumping ice into the blender until Arthur cleared his throat.

Merlin looked over at the table, where Morgana was grinning at him knowingly and Arthur was an astonishing shade of pink.

"Yes?" Merlin asked nervously.

"You...erm, you might've-" Arthur stuttered.

"You dropped your condoms, love." Morgana teased, pointing to where Merlin had tripped.

Merlin's eyes went wide.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry. My friend, he put them into my pocket because he- well- I-" Merlin's voice was growing higher and higher in pitch as he fumbled for an excuse. 

"That's alright, darling. Nothing Arthur and I haven't seen before. You're 18 years old, you have needs, there's no reason to apologize." Morgana chided, smirking at Arthur. 

Arthur, who seemed to be sending murderous looks to the ground.

Merlin blushed and shoved the condoms into his pocket.

\--

Morgana left at midnight, leaving Sara with them.

Sara, who was now sleeping next to Chivalry up against the footboard of Arthur's bed. 

"Arthur, I'm not taking your bed."

"I'm not going to let you sleep on the couch." Arthur protested.

"Then what do you propose we do?" Merlin asked, folding his arms.

Arthur shrugged.

Merlin thought for a moment. His pulse increased. "We could share?"

"What, sleep in the same bed?"

"Yeah. I'm not going to molest you or anything." Merlin teased, smirking.

Arthur hesitated, frowning. 

"Alright." He agreed, nodding. 

So Merlin began pulling off his clothes with shaky hands, pulling his pyjama bottoms on over his briefs. Arthur smirked.

"What?" Merlin asked.

"Briefs." 

"Shut up." Merlin grumbled, blushing and crawling under the sheets. Arthur stripped down to his boxer-briefs, that were a shade of dark blue that was suited to Arthur.

"Do you mind...?" Arthur asked.

Merlin seemed to have lost his capability to breathe.

"No, by all means."

Arthur climbed into the bed, and turned on his side. He reached for the remote, and the light went out.

"Goodnight, Arthur."

"Goodnight, Merlin."

\--

When morning came, Arthur was the first thing Merlin set eyes on. And he was stunning. His hair was in a state of disarray, his bare chest golden and radiating warmth. He seemed content, safe. 

Before he could stop himself, Merlin pressed a soft kiss to Arthur's forehead.

Arthur groaned softly, reaching out to hold a body that wasn't there.

It was the first time Merlin had considered that maybe, Arthur was as lonely in a romantic sense as he was in a general sense.

And that stung like lemon juice on an open wound.

\--

The next day was easy. Arthur made breakfast, a full fry-up, whistling cheerfully as he cooked.

"What're you whistling about, Pendragon?" Merlin asked curiously.

"Good dreams, I suppose." Arthur admitted, smiling brightly at Merlin.

"Care to share?"

Arthur shrugged, his smile faltering slightly. "Nothing important. Just...nice things."

Merlin smiled softly.

The rest of the day was spent in mixed chatter, Merlin on one end of the sofa reading one of the books from Arthur's shelves, and Arthur at the other, grading papers.

"D'you like mine?" Merlin asked, prodding Arthur's thigh with his toe.

"Your paper?"

Merlin nodded.

"Of course I do, stupid. You're my favorite student." Arthur froze at that.

"I'm your favorite?" Merlin asked, chuckling happily.

"I don't sleep with just any of my students." Arthur winked at Merlin playfully.

Merlin had laughed, but the comment rang in his head like a warning bell.

That night, they'd watched a film together. Something Morgana recommended, and Merlin and Arthur seemed equally dissatisfied. Somewhere, midway through the film, Arthur had placed his arm around the back of the sofa, looking at Merlin invitingly.

"There aren't even any hot blokes to stare at." Merlin groaned as he curled up under Arthur's arm. 

"You didn't come to my place to get wank material, Emrys." Arthur chuckled, looking down at Merlin.

Merlin chuckled at the irony.

Arthur began to rub small circles on Merlin's shoulder with his thumb.  
It made Merlin's skin break out in goosebumps. He nuzzled into Arthur's chest, smiling guiltily.

"Arthur?"

"Yes, Merlin?"

"Men or women?"

Arthur scoffed.

"Both, obviously."

Merlin shook his head. "No, which is better?"

Arthur hesitated. "Neither. It depends, I suppose, on the subject."

Merlin scoffed. "Don't be so fucking obtuse, I'm not asking you to pick which sex will rule the world. Which do you prefer, sexually and/or romantically?"

Arthur hummed. "Why do you ask?"

Merlin just shrugged.

"The last person I slept with was a girl."

"Girlfriend, or...?"

"God, no. I don't...no. It was just a one-time thing. Ages ago, really. I haven't had sex since the semester started."

"Why not?"

Arthur hesitated. "Busy, I guess. Better things to do."

"It's okay," Merlin mumbled. "Me either."

Arthur laughed. "Merlin, have you ever had sex at all?"

Merlin grumbled. "What do you think?"

Arthur smirked. "Well I hadn't given it much thought until now."

"All of the good ones are taken. Or straight. Or straight and taken."

Arthur sighed. "So this mystery maths boy gets your virginity?"

Merlin got quiet for a moment. "If I'm lucky."

Arthur shook his head. "He'd be a fool to turn you down, Merlin. I mean it."

Merlin was silent in response.

\--

They had gone to bed after the film, stripping down to their underwear again. This time, Arthur leant Merlin another pair of sweatpants, and a familiar red and gold shirt.

"Was this your footie jersey?" Merlin blurted out.

"Oh. Yeah. I was smaller then, I figured it would fit you." Arthur blushed. 

Merlin felt a foolish sense of pride, having Arthur's last name emblazoned in gold on his back. He crawled into bed, Arthur turning off the light soon afterward.

This was insane, Merlin realized. Arthur's clothes, Arthur's bed, Arthur's flat, everything was Arthur. And he was right here in the middle of it. The realization was mildly frightening and insanely motivating. He remembered the warm press of his lips against Arthur's forehead. 

Merlin's heart was beating faster than it had ever before in his life. Arthur must have heard it. He must have. Merlin shivered, trembling slightly. He felt Arthur scoot closer, then wrap his arms around Merlin's middle.

"You're freezing, Emrys." Arthur whispered, his breath on Merlin's neck making his hair stand up.

"You're so warm." Merlin mumbled, and Arthur moved closer.

They slotted together like pieces of a puzzle, every inch of Merlin pressed to Arthur's front. Arthur's form was strong, and made Merlin feel safe in a way that was reminiscent of home. Merlin promised himself he wouldn't read into this. But as he drifted into unconsciousness, he couldn't help but think that this was how it was meant to be.

\--

The first thing Merlin was aware of that morning was an erection that was pressed firmly against his bum. He groaned, wriggling his hips subconsciously. A strong, male voice moaned gently, cursing afterwards. Arthur. Merlin felt Arthur scramble out of bed, only to reappear minutes later, sliding back into his place, holding Merlin tightly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur Pendragon is on a downward spiral that seems to never end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF CONSIDERED SUICIDE.

Merlin was clearly a incubus sent to ruin his entire life. Merlin had a blatant disregard for the rules, for authority, for poetry, for everything that structured Arthur's being. But he was charming, and sweet, in his own way. Merlin was something else.

That first morning, when Arthur had spun around to give Merlin a few choice words about how rude it was to be late to the very first lecture of his class, Merlin had taken his breath away. He was positively fey, his ebony hair ruffled and unkempt, his blue eyes so undeniably bright from behind his thick black glasses. Arthur felt his blood run cold. Nothing had ever been so immediate in his life as his attraction to Merlin. And Merlin was witty, quick on his feet to snap back at Arthur. He understood poetry on the same level Arthur did. He was tempting, all of him. But he had known that being with Merlin would only end badly. It was frowned upon by the university, and Merlin was so young, he couldn't possibly want a relationship. That night, he bought a new journal. He scrawled Merlin's name on the front page, and started writing. Merlin inspired him in a way that was new, a way that only his own inner turmoil had inspired him before. He wrote down everything, every emotion he had towards the boy. 

It was okay. He could get through this, work through the temptation.

Of course, Arthur's friends knew his feelings. There was a dinner party at Arthur's flat shortly after the first class of the term, and by "party" he really meant, Leon and Morgana came over for take-out Chinese.

They had, as they did every year, asked Arthur if he had a favorite student yet. Arthur had immediately begun gushing about Merlin, the young man with an attitude and an aptitude for the most raw poetry Arthur had ever seen come out of a teenager. 

Leon and Morgana had traded knowing smiles. 

"I doubt he'll be the only one writing love poetry by the time this is through." Morgana had quipped.

Arthur couldn't even defend himself. He was smitten, and he knew it. He couldn't lie to himself that way.

Arthur told them everything, all of the poetry, the evening at his flat, and eventually, that Merlin was staying for the holiday.

Now he wasn't even alone to face his lovesickness, he had his sister and best friend to eagerly mock him for it. 

Merlin was relentless. A new poem every morning, all for this boy, this entirely lucky boy who had no idea that the most perfect boy in the world was hopelessly in love with him. 

Arthur wanted to vomit. It felt impossible, to live on being in love with someone who didn't give him a second glance. 

There were nights where he thought it might be easiest to remove himself entirely.

But those thoughts were ones he eagerly pushed away. He couldn't hurt Merlin, Morgana, or Leon like that. He would have to suffer through this, this painful love that never ended.

He would have to settle for being alone, for making sure that Merlin found happiness, no matter who it was with. He could be the dutiful best friend. He could be the best man at the wedding. If it made Merlin happy, it was nothing but doable to Arthur.

Unfortunately, what made Merlin happy was steadily sucking the life out of Arthur Pendragon.

Then there was the maths boy that Merlin loved so desperately.

He was torn. 

He wanted to meet this boy. He knew there was no one who could be as good to Merlin as he could. No one who could take care of Merlin the way he needed. No one who loved him, or wanted him, as much as Arthur did. So what made him so special? He was probably some conceited ass, with a business degree, a rich family, and a girlfriend. That's what everyone wanted, why would Merlin be any different? What made this boy, this absolute fool who couldn't see how Merlin felt, more worthy of Merlin's attention than Arthur?

He wanted to mark Merlin like some sort of primal animal. He wanted to throw him down on his desk and grab his hair, bite Merlin's neck and chest and thighs. Leave marks of passion and possession on his skin. Fuck him until the boy in his geometry course looked like nothing compared to Arthur. He knew from the poems that someone to be rough was what Merlin wanted. He wanted that boy to be rough with him. Ridiculous, no one that age would give Merlin what he wanted, what he needed. He remembered four lines, the four lines that got Arthur harder than he'd ever been in his life: "It's as simple as sickness/ That only your lips and possessive marks can cure./ The idea of you holding me down, binding me with rough kisses/ Is as much of a plague as any." Those words consumed him like flames. Merlin wanted it, wanted to be held down and marked and used. And how was that possible? Sweet little Merlin, only 18, with the friendly smile and the innocent blue eyes. How could he want something that was so inherently animalistic, when Merlin talked to his mother at least once a day and couldn't even boil water without making a mess or burning himself? It blew Arthur's mind initially. Then he thought. Merlin with the innocent blue eyes and friendly smile was also a teenaged boy with sinful lips, a sharp tongue, and a natural musk that smelled of men, sex, and candy. He was a walking contradiction. It drove Arthur to madness. And now, Arthur had directly disobeyed his own orders and allowed Merlin to stay with him for two whole weeks. Merlin was even more tempting in Arthur's flat, attempting to cook, playing with Leon's absurd cat, snuggling into his chest, and talking about virginity like it was something he wanted extracted as soon as he could bend over. And the condoms in Merlin's back pocket, Christ. How was he meant to just stay away when Merlin allowed himself to be vulnerable in Arthur's home, vulnerable enough to go around dropping his condoms on the floor. And he'd been so ashamed to even have them. But Merlin was single, and a virgin, so what would he need condoms for? It was clearly just a taunt by the Gods, reminding him that Merlin, when he wasn't baking Christmas cookies (with Arthur's careful supervision over the oven), desperately wanted to be fucked. 

It wasn't fair. Not only was Merlin like a little kitten who needed to be looked after, surprise, he had to be some sort of sex god in the making as well. Merlin was truly perfect for him. Not to mention how good the boy looked in Arthur's old footie kit. 

He could see spending his life with Merlin, dedicating the rest of his life to the younger man's happiness. They could bicker in that light-hearted way they always did over breakfast and tea, and curl up on the couch to watch hideous reality television or just have a conversation. Arthur could run his fingers through Merlin's dark locks and press soft kisses to Merlin's pouty pink lips. Arthur could help Merlin write his papers, and Merlin could teach Arthur how to play piano. It would be so perfect, so amazing. Oh, why couldn't Merlin just love him? Why couldn't it just be that simple? 

Of course, he'd never pressure Merlin about it. He knew better, he wasn't some brute that bought into the idea of people owing other people sexual favors or relationships just because they were "nice". No, Merlin could choose who he wanted to be with based on his own feelings and his own feelings alone.

So he lived with the sting of unrequited love. But he wanted Merlin to be with this maths boy, if he truly made Merlin happy. Merlin deserved happiness. 

That being said, he was a fool to give into temptation the way he had. He'd held Merlin's shivering form close to his body, a touch that was entirely intimate. 

It angered him, because it only strengthened the feelings he had for the boy. Merlin commanded him to think in an entirely different way, understand things he couldn't begin to comprehend before.

The poetry he'd read in uni that he'd dismiss as sappy and worthless was now revealing itself to be entirely accurate. Those verses that Arthur had scoffed at when he hadn't believed in love were haunting him. 

"One rose, but one, by those fair fingers cull'd,/ Were worth a hundred kisses press'd on lips/ Less exquisite than thine."

He'd whispered words into Merlin's skin before the younger boy woke in the morning because he knew he'd never get to do it again.

"It climbs the same way on damp walls,/ You are to blame for this cruel sport./ They are fleeing from my dark lair./ You fill everything, you fill everything."

There were times when he wanted to rip his hair out, to take Merlin by the collar and make him understand. Just to scream the words that he was being suffocated by.

"I want Paris/ I want you drunk on wine/ I want to walk with you/ and hold you up/ and giggle and kiss/ God how I miss/ your smile and thick skin"

How is it possible to want someone this badly, to be torn apart by their lack of love for you, and still live? Still be alive with that gaping hole in your chest?

"If I were always allowed/ to kiss your honey-sweet eyes,/ I might kiss you three hundred thousand times/ and never be sated."

The morning after Arthur had cuddled Merlin to sleep, he woke up with an erection. He never hated himself more. He prayed to whoever was listening that despite the groan and push back onto his crotch, Merlin wasn't aware of what had happened. He had gone to the bathroom, eagerly taken care of it, and sunk back into his spot. 

"Arthur?" Merlin asked sleepily an hour later, their bodies still intertwined as they lay in bed.

"Yes?" Arthur answered casually.

"Can you read me some of your poetry?" Merlin's voice was quiet, cautious. As if he was scared that Arthur would be angry with him. As if that were possible. 

"Of course I can, don't be so nervous." Arthur chuckled and pulled the green journal from his nightstand. 

"Things in my life have never gone my way  
This is a fact  
I am used to it

But I am not used to you  
I am not used to the way you look when you love him  
I am not used to feeling like the best friend

Things in my life have never gone my way  
This is true  
I don't debate it

But I do debate you  
I debate the way you are so sure you aren't worthy of him  
I debate how eager you are to give up.

Things in my life have never gone my way  
Particularly now  
That I'm in love with you

I love the way you mock me  
I love the way you laugh when I tell an unfunny joke  
I love the way you love with your whole body."

Merlin smiled. "Another, please?"

"poetry suits you.  
'if i knew my words meant anything to you  
i'd write the breath  
out of my lungs'

you've already stolen the breath  
the s p a c e s between my letters  
the dull ache i feel in my ribs at 4 am

on nights when i am an existentialist  
which really means  
'i am lonely'

loving you is not a democracy  
i didn't vote to feel this way  
i didn't choose to love you so much it pains me to breathe

when you love someone  
they steal your pain  
and replace it with a different brand

loving you  
is like  
pulling the trigger  
but without the relief

i forget sometimes  
whether it's unattainable or unobtainable  
but it doesn't matter much

you are both in equal measures  
gatsby's green light  
that never really brightened anything

and yet  
you are so bright  
that it blinds me

and at 3:07 am  
in my bedroom  
i don't want my vision back."  
\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter, mainly because I don't want Arthur's POV to be the one where big developments happen. This chapter was mostly to give you an insight on the other side of the curtain. I hope it was useful! Dedicated to Ashton, who is just the sweetest thing and was able to get me back in the writing mood to finish up this chapter. Very tentative possible update within a week.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by my love of professor fics and poetry. Edit: I have just remembered, there is another fic written by frantic called "Things Fall Apart" that features Arthur as an English professor. It is a very good fic and I recommend it, that being said, any similarities to that fic are unintentional and coincidental.


End file.
